


Illusions and Dreams

by izazov



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:32:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Be careful what you wish for. Loki learns what it means after finally ascending to the throne of Asgard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illusions and Dreams

It starts rather innocently. With a simple question.

“How fares my son?”

His voice does not even hitch at the last word, the lie slipping easily from his lips, and the illusion he is wearing almost like a second skin now. But what is he, if not a creature of lies and tricks, illusion piled upon illusion, from the moment Odin snatched him away from his would be fate.

Heimdall inclines his heed respectfully, his eerie eyes still fixed upon nothing. And everything at once. Loki has already done this once or twice since usurping the throne of Asgard. Coming to the Observatory to talk to Asgard’s Watcher simply for the thrill of standing in front of him, knowing Heimdall cannot see past the illusion twining around Loki, but deep inside feeling the twinges of barely held excitement at the though – what if? What if the magic falters momentarily, and a mere moment would be all it takes for Heimdall’s eyes to pierce the illusion, and see the grinning face behind it. It feels like walking a razor’s edge over an endless abyss, and if Loki wanted to be honest with himself, it is also the only time he feels his heart beat with something other than bitter realization of having everything he has ever wanted, and, at the same time, having nothing at all.

But this is the first time Loki is here for a reason, not merely seeking the thrill of flirting with disaster, only so he could alleviate the ever-growing need of lighting the whole of Asgard on fire, for the sole pleasure of laughing at the flames. And as usual, it involves the bane of his existence, the one person he cannot get free of, no matter the amount of space between them. And even a larger amount of Loki’s lies.

_Thor._

“He seems content.” Heimdall says after a moment of silence.

The smile on the face Loki is wearing is just the right amount of tenderness and regret, but his real face is twisted into a grimace of bitter resentment. Loki won. Thor kneeled before him, gave up the throne to his wicked not-brother, turning his back on the Realm Eternal, leaving it in Loki’s hands. Whether he knew it or not, matters little. So why does his victory taste so bitter? Like choking on ashes.

“It is not often that a father feels pride, and yet, has to keep it hidden, because duty demands him to be the king first, and father second.” The words come out unbidden, and Loki almost slips then, choking back laugher at the last moment. He is becoming so good at this, soon he will even have himself fooled that he is Odin, not his Jotunn foundling.

Heimdall fixes him with his gaze, and for a brief second, Loki is sure he sees through the illusion, down to the very core of Loki’s rotten heart. He is not sure is it disappointment or relief that washes over him at Heimdall’s words, “Such is the burden of the throne. Few are worthy of it, and even less stay worthy once they have it, but many want it. It does not happen often that the one who should have it, refuses to do so.”

Loki says nothing, his lips thinning into a hard line, both the illusion and his own face in agreement this time, and when he turns to leave, he can almost feel the weight of Odin’s long years pressing down on his shoulders.

That is how it starts, with a mere question. But, then again, most disasters do.

******

Loki can recognize it for what is when it starts.

An itch he cannot scratch hard enough, the twinges of some deeply ingrained need to have Thor aware of his existence, no matter how catastrophic the results could turn out to be.

He fights it, at the beginning. Turns his attention to the kingdom that is his now, and all its people. The scars on Asgard’s shining surface from Dark Elves’ attack are slowly fading, and Loki makes it a personal challenge to make them disappear completely.

He bears scars as well. An ugly red gash on his chest that should have ended his life, but, instead, provided him with the opportunity to finally have his revenge on Odin, and ascend to the throne of Asgard.

He fails short at ending Odin’s existence, time and time again coming to stand beside Odin’s sleeping, helpless body, a dagger in his shaking hand. And each time, he storms furiously from Odin’s secret prison, with tears on his face, and helpless rage and pain in his heart. He will never be able to go through with it. He knows it now, the vision of deep sorrow and disappointment in Frigga’s eyes too strong, stronger even than the hate and rage that burn inside him at the mere mention of Odin.

He tries not to think of Frigga, tries not to call her mother, even inside his mind. He manages it during the day, mostly because it requires his entire strength of will, the act of holding the illusion of Odin’s face and ruling Asgard with benevolence in mind, when he wants to strike at its people and end their foolish, petty requests in blood. Their blood. Instead he listens, and nods his head, and does what he thinks would be best for them, the people he never could understand or like, never quite fit in the way he should have. Or not, as it turns out.

The nights are a different matter. Without the crowd if people surrounded him at all times during the day, he is left at the mercy of his own mind at nights. And the memory of directing a monster out of Asgard’s nightmares down a path that lead to his mother. And unlike the scar on his chest, this is an open wound on his heart, bleeding self-hate and regret.

Loki won, he has it all – Thor far from his sight, and blissfully unaware of Loki’s machinations, Odin helpless at his mercy, and all of Asgard under his rule.

So why does he feel like he is trapped inside a cage that is slowly closing in on him, knowing there is a dark corner of the universe from where a pair of eyes searches for him?

And, somehow, even that pales in comparison with the bitter knowledge of Thor being content. It is childish and petty, and could cost him everything, but Loki sometimes finds himself unable to draw breath past the almost overwhelming need to dig his nails in Thor’s content Midgardian existence, and tear it to pieces.

******

Thor does look content.

His face softened into a smile Loki has trouble remembering seeing on Thor’s lips lately, his posture relaxed as he moves through the crowd in some nameless Midgardian city, one hand wrapped around the waist of the woman walking beside him, her face alight with passionate enthusiasm as she explains something to Thor, who merely keeps his gentle smile, stopping only to move a stray lock of hair from her face-

With a grimace of distaste, Loki waves his hand, the image flickering briefly before disappearing entirely, but not before he sees Thor throwing his head back, and Loki can almost hear the laugher coming from his mouth.

Clenching his jaw together, Loki turns on his heel, almost forgetting that Odin does not stalk through this halls, forcing his feet into a more leisurely pace as he leaves Thor’s room, Odin’s visage hiding the white hot anger blazing in Loki’s eyes.

******

It is reckless and foolish, putting all he had managed to accomplish on the line, and for what? A brief glimpse of Thor and his woman, sitting together on the couch of their apartment, while Loki skulks in the shadows.

But Loki could not avoid coming here no more than he could stop drawing breath, the pull natural and beyond his control equally as breathing. So he stands unnoticed, his teeth clenched, his chest a cage of conflicting emotions, and Thor simply sits there, lashes half obscuring the blue of his eyes, the perfect image of peace and content as he runs lazy fingers through brown hair of his female companion, who sits with her head leaning against Thor’s chest, engrossed in the book she is reading. At ease, relaxed, as if that is where she belongs. As if Thor is _hers._

Jealousy, sudden and startling in its intensity, makes Loki take a step forward, no clear intent in his mind. He is aware only of the need to wrench her away from Thor, leaving a blazing trail of fire in his veins. He takes another step, and then stops dead, feeling as if waking from a long dream, as icy tendrils of dread and disbelief pull at his heart, dragging it down into a bottomless pit of startling realization.

His lips form a wordless no, and he fades back to Asgard, the last image he sees before shutting his eyes, that of Thor leaning to kiss the crown of Jane’s brown head.

******

Loki is trapped, he realizes it now. Possibly has been trapped for quite some time. 

But it is not by ambition or spite, as he walks in Odin’s form, ruling over Asgard. The throne means no more to him now than an old, discarded toy. It is not even by fear of the power far greater than any he has ever seen, reaching after him across the vast space of the universe.

No, the chains that bind him are far stronger than that, and all the more cruel. And the one who holds them, does not even realize it. But neither did Loki, not until he’d been faced with the naked truth of seeing Thor completely out of his reach.

Loki wracks his mind, searching through the memories of his youth, as he paces back and forth in Odin’s study like a caged beast, trying to find the evidence of his twisted heart. But the smiles he sees are that of brotherly love, the touches innocent. So he has not always been a monster, no matter the tint of his true skin. He merely turned into one. Somewhere along the way. And now here he is, a hollow ache inside his chest and poisonous desire coursing through his blood, his hands yearning to touch and hold the only person in the entire universe, and beyond, who he should never desire in such manner.

_Thor_.

Loki regrets but a few things, his entire existence shattering and rebuilding itself into something ragged and brittle after his fall, but, in the end, not even he could deny that, no matter the hate and resentment, he could never quite stop loving his brother. And it had been love that made him step into a fight that ended with him bleeding out in Thor’s arms. They made their peace that day on Svartalfheim. Peace paid in Loki’s blood and Thor’s tears.

Loki wrecked it not long after. But in the moment he had been lying in Thor’s arms, feeling what he had thought to be his last heartbeats, he meant every word he had said. And now, even that lone memory of him rising above his anger and malice, is tainted by his newfound lust for Thor.

Had it been inside him all along? Simmering underneath the surface of his skin, even when his blood sang with bloodlust, and the thought of Thor bloody and broken had been his only desire.

But does it even matter now? The moment his perversion first began? When the treads of it are so deeply ingrained into his very soul, it will take nothing short of his death to make them release their hold on him.

Choking back a scream, Loki buries his face into his tightly clenched fists, but the image of Thor’s lips gently touching that woman’s head, burns bright behind his closed eyelids.

******

This spell isn’t something Loki has tried often. Mostly because he’s never needed it much in the past. But it is fairly simple magic, requiring little of his concentration. He dares not travel to Midgard again, not after what occurred the last time, not trusting himself to stay calm and rational in the light of Thor’s domestic bliss.

But the need burning inside him demands an outlet before it drives him mad, or causes him to finally slip up and reveal the true face of their wise king to the citizens of Asgard.

Sighing, Loki allows himself to settle more comfortably inside Thor’s bed, his head leaning against the massive headboard. Maybe it is foolish of him to choose Thor’s room, but he cannot go to his old rooms, and he’d rather be damned than cast this spell while in Odin’s bed. Shutting his eyes, he speaks the words of the spell.

One moment nothing happens, then it comes, warmth spreading from the tips of his fingers to his insides, hotter with every passing second, skittering the edge of pain. Loki sucks in a breath when the sensation suddenly transforms into a crackle of power that grips his consciousness, and pulls.

******

Loki blinks when he comes to his senses, slowly rising to his feet, taking a careful glance of his surroundings, the breath hitching in his throat when he takes in the familiar grey wasteland.

_Svartalfheim_.

Frowning, he swallows, suddenly uncomfortable. Before he had cast the spell to invade Thor’s dreams, he spent little time imagining what he could find there. Possibly dreams of past battles, or his current content – even if mundane – existence. He had been prepared to see Jane here, even Thor’s idiot friends, both from Asgard and Midgard, but he had not expected to find himself back in the place of his death.

He takes one step, then hesitates. Crouching, Loki reaches after a handful of dirt, watching fascinated as it spills slowly from his fingers. He had not been sure, he’d cast this spell only once or twice before, when his magic had been still wild and unpredictable, making it difficult to touch and feel the shapes and textures of things inhabiting the ever-changing landscape of dreams.

This dream, though, Loki starts to realize with a growing sense of unease, seems real, too real, even. There are no flickers of colors, shapes blurring and changing into something else as it is usual in dreams. Taking a deep breath, Loki takes a few steps, and then stops dead, his breath freezing in his lungs when his eyes land on the red blur of Thor’s cape in the distance. He knows what he will see if he keeps walking forward, so he stops and waits for it to pass. Waits for his memory self to close his eyes, and Thor to let him go out of his embrace, but it does not happen. He stands still, his heart making a valiant attempt at keeping a steady beat, but failing completely. He waits, and waits, but the scene in the distance does not change, two figures seemingly frozen in a moment that cannot end. 

His eyes widening, Loki takes a stumbling step back, the shock shattering his concentration, and, with a gasp-

Loki’s eyes fly wide open, his heart still beating wildly, and it takes him a moment to realize he is back in Asgard, in Thor’s old room, and not invading Thor’s dreams, watching him relive the moment of Loki’s death over and over and over.

Shutting his eyes, he allows his head to fall back against the headboard with a dull thunk. He feels it a second before it happens, a small crack in the dam he’d built around his mind, growing bigger and bigger, before it finally shatters, releasing a wild torrent of guilt and regret, and Loki has no choice but to let himself drown in it.

******

Loki tries not to think about the implications of what he saw in Thor’s dream. He is already barely holding the threads of his sanity after realizing the nature of his feelings for Thor, and now, he is faced with this. Even if it makes no sense. Loki has seen Thor, seen him smile like he has no worry and no regret on his mind, perfectly content playing house with his Midgardian scientist.

Then why that dream? Why go back to the place and time of Loki’s death?

It had been a coincidence. Unfortunate one, and it holds no deeper meaning. Or that is what Loki tries to make himself believe, but the lie sounds weak even in his own mind.

He lasts two days before he casts the spell again.

******

Loki cannot say he is surprised when he opens his eyes to the familiar gloomy scenery.

Only, this time he is prepared for it. But he still hesitates a moment, before forcing his feet to move forward, one slow step after the other, until he finds himself standing two small steps away from Thor, still desperately clutching at Loki’s dying echo.

Loki grimaces, aware that he could stand here, so close, and never have Thor notice him, his eyes seeing nothing but the body in his arms.

Shutting his eyes in helpless frustration, Loki cannot help but think how easier everything would be if he could simply forget Thor. No love, no hate, no resentment. No endless ache inside him. No frantic struggle to leave Thor’s shadow, or drag Thor deeper into his own darkness.

But where would that leave Loki? Without Thor, what would be the purpose of his life? Would he also become trapped in a recurring nightmare, clinging to a shadow of someone he cannot remember?

Reluctantly, he opens his eyes and takes s deep breath. “Thor,” he calls, but it has no effect. Thor is blind and deaf to everything but the agony of the moment. Both his and Loki’s. “Thor,” Loki tries again, louder this time, his voice coming out less sure, strained, shame and regret squeezing his throat in a viselike grip. Thor’s shoulders tense almost imperceptibly, but he makes no other move.

Sighing, Loki crosses the space that separates them, and sinks slowly to his knees in front of Thor. He avoids looking at his mirror image, focusing his attention on bowed blond head, even though he cannot help but sneak a glance, regretting it immediately. So that is how he’d looked – pain and shock lessening into something that resembles peace and acceptance. A single moment of truth, so brief, morphing into yet another lie, another betrayal, with the first greedy gasp of air Loki took as he opened his eyes. But this is hardly time for introspection, no matter how much he needs it. Needs to regain the solid ground underneath his feet, having it lost in that ill-fated visit to Thor’s home on Midgard.

Reaching out, he takes a firm hold of Thor’s face and turns it toward himself, forcing Thor’s eyes to look up. The look in Thor’s eyes is wild and unfocused, the muscles in his hands rippling, and for one moment, Loki is sure this will end in violence. “ _Thor, stop_ ,” he commands, tightening his grip on Thor’s face when Thor jerks violently, trying to set himself free. “This is not real. Come back to me.”

Thor blinks, his chest heaving with heavy breaths, but Loki can see recognition dawning in the blue of Thor’s eyes. “Loki?” He breathes out, finally letting go of the shadow of Loki’s body, wrapping his hands tightly around Loki’s wrists. Swallowing, Thor whispers brokenly. “ _Brother_.”

The word hurts, and shames him, in more way than he could count, but Loki merely smiles, pads of his fingers brushing, feather light, against Thor’s cheeks. “I cannot leave you to your own devices, can I, Thor?” He says softly, the ache inside his chest threatening to suffocate him. “Not when you end up doing something foolish as this.”

The broken sound that comes out of Thor’s mouth resembles neither a laugh, nor a sob. “Yet you always leave me, seeking paths that are impossible to follow,” the tears are flowing freely down Thor’s cheeks, his eyes bright, almost feverish, the grip he has on Loki’s wrists bordering on painful. “Have you no mercy for me, brother?”

Every word, every tear, is another cut against the already torn flesh of his heart, and Loki suddenly wants to tell Thor the truth. And watch the love and tenderness seep from Thor’s eyes, as they harden into an expression of righteous fury. He manages to stop himself in time, choosing another truth, the far safer one. “I am here now, Thor.” He says, the smile on his face a small, broken thing.

With a choked sob, Thor pulls him near, burying his face against the crook of Loki’s neck. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he pleads, and demands, but Loki stays silent. He cannot speak the truth, and he would rather not lie to Thor in this moment, even if his very presence is another lie. Instead, he extracts his hands from Thor’s desperate grip, wrapping one around Thor’s shoulder, and tangling the other in Thor’s hair. He makes soothing noises, but offers no promises or explanations as Thor’s body shudders with silent sobs, the wetness of his tears soaking the leather of his armor.

Loki has never done this before, not even in the long years of their youth had he offered his strength as a pillar for Thor to lean on. He had never needed to. Thor has always been the epitome of strength, powerful and victorious, and the first time he’d found himself on his knees, it had been through Loki’s machinations. And, in a way, the blame for Thor’s tears can be once again placed on Loki’s shoulders. But Loki can recognize a gift when he sees one, so he only tightens his hold on Thor, his fingers carding through Thor’s hair, as his body slowly calms, relaxing against Loki.

When Thor pulls away so he could look him in the eyes, Loki feels the loss keenly, but keeps it hidden behind a soft smile. Slowly, as if seeking Loki’s permission, Thor’s hand rises up, his fingers settling on the back of Loki’s neck. His lips twist into a small smile, but it never reaches his eyes. “This is only a dream,” Thor says, more to himself than Loki, as his gaze flicks to the vacant spot where Loki’s body should be. The gentle hold of his fingers grows stronger, as if he wants to soak up the warmth of Loki’s skin underneath. “But it is a good dream.”

They stay like that, silent, and Loki can almost fool himself into believing that all the bad blood between them does not exist, the time after their trip to Jotunheim simply disappearing into nothingness, but then Thor pulls Loki’s head forward, leaning his forehead against Loki’s, his breath ghosting over Loki’s lips, and Loki becomes acutely aware how easy would it be to tip his head, and swallow the next breath that comes out of Thor’s mouth.

Just like that, the illusion is shattered, and Loki shuts his eyes, releasing his hold on the magic binding him to Thor’s dream, and-

Opens his eyes back in Asgard, the image of hurt in Thor’s eyes as he tries to hold onto his flickering form, both an accusation and a punishment.

******

He is playing a dangerous game. A game that could cost him even his life in the end, but Loki spares no time for lying to himself about his willingness to stop. The warnings of his rational mind are valid, but they are not enough to make him give up his visits to Thor’s dreams.

Give up _Thor_.

That woman may have Thor’s love, his happy smiles during his waking hours, but Thor’s dreams are his. And if it means he will only have Thor’s misery, regret and pain, then so be it.

It is not like Loki deserves anything else. And even if Thor does deserve better, Loki is not Thor. His heart has never had Thor’s generosity, always too greedy, too selfish, in its desire to have and to hold, consequences be damned.

******

“You are here.”

Loki smiles feebly, as Thor rises from the ground where he had been sitting, just a blur of red, and Loki braces himself for another one of Thor’s bear hugs, but Thor stop mere inches from Loki, looking suddenly unsure. Slowly, as if he is afraid that Loki will disappear in a puff of smoke, he reaches out a hesitant hand, placing it in the middle of Loki’s chest.

Right over the scar Loki still bears.

“And yet you are not,” he adds hoarsely, his fingers trembling slightly.

Loki forces himself to roll his eyes. “This is your dream, Thor, don’t be so melodramatic,” he says, sighing. Thor obviously remembers at least something from his previous dream. Loki had hoped he would not, it would have made this much less dangerous for Loki. “You can have whatever you want. Your mind controls everything here.”

Thor smiles. “I already do,” Thor says softly, and now he does hug Loki, but it is a gentle hug, no trace of the desperation of the last time. Loki returns it, wrapping his arms around Thor’s shoulders. For a moment, he allows himself to simply enjoy the feel of Thor’s strong body against his own, the warmth that emanates from it, amazed at how real all this seems. Even the scent of his skin is typical Thor – rainwater and ozone. Leaning his head against the side of Thor’s face, Loki shuts his eyes, feeling some of the weariness that has been clinging to his bones disappear. Loki may have mastered the use of illusions and lies, but living them constantly can be exhausting. Even for a trickster with a silver tongue.

Reluctantly, Loki pulls away. Thor’s hold on him tightens momentarily, but relaxes almost immediately. Folding his hands behind his back, Loki takes a look of their surroundings. “I never knew you had a masochistic streak, Thor, you have hidden it well,” Loki says, frowning at the vast, grey emptiness of Svartalfheim. “You must know there is nothing for you here. You should stay away, even in your dreams.”

“I do not come here voluntarily, Loki,” Thor says, and Loki doesn’t miss the sudden tension in Thor’s body. “And you are mistaken. You are here.”

“You mean, my corpse is here,” Loki snaps, suddenly angry. Something dark and vicious uncoils in his chest, the need to strike at Thor almost overwhelming. “But not even that is real. And what is it that draws you here? Regret? Or shame?”

Thor does not rise to the bait. A small, sad smile flickers briefly on his lips. “Regret may be what guides my steps here each night, but it is love that makes me stay,” he says simply, and Loki wants to claw the sadness from his eyes. He also wants to laugh out loud, because this entire conversation is turning into a comedy of epic proportions, and only Loki is on the joke. If Thor knew what Loki had really done, how quick would the sadness turn into a blazing inferno of righteous fury? “You have given your life to save mine here. How likely am I to forget that?”

Loki snorts, hard and derisive. “Sentimentality, of course. _That_ I have known about you since I have been able to walk.”

Surprisingly, Thor bursts into laughter. “You said I can control everything here. Does it also apply to you?”

Loki narrows his eyes. “You can try,” he says, all false softness that only makes Thor’s smile wider. “I am not sure you will enjoy the result.”

“You fight me even in my own dreams, Loki,” Thor says, but he says it fondly, his eyes warming with tenderness. “Could we not call truce, brother? Are you not wary of us fighting?”

Loki stays silent, dark anger inside him draining under Thor’s earnest look. He is wary of fighting Thor, and fighting is hardly why he came here. “Well, that would leave us with not much to do, wouldn’t you agree, Thor?”

“We have not always been enemies, Loki,” Thor chides, frowning. “You must remember everything I remember. And I remember us being happy.”

Loki stares at Thor one long moment, unsure if he understood him right. “Are you telling me that you want to reminisce?” Loki says, incredulous. “Here?”

In answer, Thor, the sentimental, dramatic fool that he is, lowers himself down on the ground, stretching comfortably as he folds his hands under his head. He throws a challenging look at Loki.

“You cannot honestly believe this is a good idea?” Loki asks, exasperated, but he cannot deny the feel of something – warm and light – bubbling inside his chest. Something he could almost call happiness if he wasn’t aware of all the lies hidden inside his mind. And the even more devastating truth inside his heart. “Or even a sane one?”

“Why not? After all the blood spilled between us, what harm could memories do?”

Loki stares at Thor’s prone form, looking at him with wide, open eyes. He could end this with a few words, or by merely breaking the connection, and never again indulge his foolish need to have Thor all for himself. He could. But he will not. He still wants – needs – this illusion of closeness too much. And Loki has never been good in denying himself that which he desired. 

With a small sigh, Loki comes to sit on the ground next to Thor. He doesn’t miss the wide, smug smile on Thor’s lips. Only a year ago, Loki would have wanted to tear that smile from Thor’s face. By force, or words alone. He still does, in the dark parts of his heart, but the bright, happy look in Thor’s eyes also makes him want to do everything to keep it there.

“You could at least make the ground more comfortable. All it would take is a thought,” he grumbles, but Thor merely laughs, and, before Loki even sees his hand moving, he has his fingers wrapped around Loki’s wrist, and he is pulling Loki down on the ground next to him.

Loki goes with it, shooting Thor an annoyed look, but his heart – stubborn in its insistence to swell until his chest feels too small – tells a different story. “Maybe a thought is too much for you, though. Thinking has always been endeavor you strove to avoid.”

“And you are still spoiled as always. Dirt has never harmed anyone, brother.”

Loki shoots Thor another dirty look, but makes no move to sit up, instead he shakes his head at how surreal all this is. Lying next to Thor on the ground, so close their shoulders are almost touching, in the place of his near death.

“We are both mad,” he breathes out, wistful and awed at the same time.

“As long as we are mad together, I have no complaints,” Thor says softly, the smile that appears on his face almost blinding. “And this is my dream, a good dream, and if that makes me mad, so be it.”

Loki ignores a twinge of guilt that comes in reaction to Thor’s words, shutting his eyes.

And when Thor starts to recall, Loki allows himself to pretend that he is not slowly, but surely, walking down a path that leads only to his ruin.

******

“You have another complaint, brother?”

“What makes you think I do?”

“You are looking at me like you are contemplating my murder.”

“Perhaps I am, it would hardly be the first time.”

“Very well, how do you think we have escaped from Nidavellirr that time?”

“You meant to say, how it _actually_ happened, didn’t you, Thor?”

******

“I know you cheated, Loki.”

“Just because you lost to me, does not make me a cheat.”

“Why must you… even here… it is not my intention to offend your skills, Loki-”

“But how could the great Thor ever lose to his younger brother if not by some honorless trick?”

“You will never admit it, will you?”

“Would you?”

******

“As fascinating as the story of your Vanaheim debacle is, but what is the point of it? I wasn’t even there.”

“ _That_ is the point.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.”

“If you had been there, I would not make such a fool of myself.”

“You seem to think I would go out of my way to prevent it.”

“Would you not?”

******

“Do not go there, Thor. I have indulged you before, but I will not indulge you in this. ”

“She is no longer with us, but she is a part of us. We should be able to speak of her.”

“A part of _you_. I share not a drop of your blood. I am not even Aesir. You know that, so stop trying to make me into something I am not.”

“You were her son. And she your mother.”

******

“And here I thought you were intent on inflicting on me only positive memories. This surely is not one of them. Or is it?” 

“Do not speak of it so callously Loki. Not even in jest.”

“Then why do you insist on it?”

“Because I wish to know. What madness, what _hurt_ , had been so grand it made you throw away your life?”

“I survived, didn’t I?”

“When you let go, you knew you are to survive the fall?”

“ _Loki?_ ”

******

It is madness.

Loki told as much to Thor when it all started, but made no move, spoke no word to stop it. It was even endearing, at first, to listen to Thor speak about the times long past, when life had been much easier. When his soul had been free of shadows that are clinging to it now.

But it is a lie. Worse than a lie. Loki’s presence taints every memory Thor drags from their youth in his sentimental folly of clinging to a ghost of a brother who is long gone.

Just not in the exact way Thor believes him to be gone.

He should be glad – and he is, fiercely, darkly, in the corners of his heart that will always want to see Thor on his knees, his light dimmed – that he is luring Thor away from the life he has created fir himself on Midgard. The spell he’d cast alerts him when Thor goes to sleep. With every passing day, the spell informs him of that fact sooner. He is dragging Thor down a path that only leads to misery and heartache, no matter how gladly Thor follows. And, this time, it had not been his intent. He merely wanted Thor for himself. He had not been thinking where it could lead.

And now he has no idea what to do. Loving Thor had been easy, hating him, even more so. No matter how entwined the two feelings have become, one has always ruled the other, and never before has Loki been in a maddening situation where he stood conflicted, not knowing what is it that he seeks from Thor.

But the ache inside him stays, growing stronger, and so he follows the path that leads him to Thor’s dreams every single night. And away from Thor, as the weight of Loki’s lies and betrayal only grows bigger with each passing night.

******

The ground is hard underneath his back, he keeps his eyes squeezed tightly, and Thor’s voice is cheerful, loud noise in his ears. Like it has been for night after a night. And suddenly, Loki cannot take it anymore. He snaps.

“Thor, stop,” Loki demands, sitting up. There is no force in his voice, only weariness. As there is no warning in the look he throws at Thor. “You cannot possibly mean to drag every foolish adventure we have been on so long ago, or whatever silly memory occurs to you, from the past. It leads nowhere, makes no sense, and is becoming increasingly annoying.”

Thor looks both hurt and confused, as if he has no idea why, after all this time, Loki fights him on this. “You had no complaints before.”

Rising to his feet, Loki swallows a frustrated growl. “Of course I’ve had, but I hoped you will stop after a reasonable amount of time. Now I see you would be perfectly content spinning tales of our youth for centuries to come.” 

Anger flashes in Thor’s eyes as he stands up, his hand balled up into fists. “And why would that be such a hardship? It is not as I will have the opportunity to make new memories,” Loki blinks at the look of hurt and resentment that burns inside Thor’s eyes. But not as hot as his anger does. He stands a mere step away, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, looking as if torn by two equally as strong, but very different impulses – to hug Loki, or strangle him. In the end he settles for words instead. “You died, Loki. You failed to heed my warnings, and you died. You _bleed to death_ in my arms.” Thor’s voice cracks at the last word, and he shuts his eyes for a moment, a grimace of pain crossing his features. Thor had not tried to relive the memory of his death since Loki’s second visit, but it is obvious now he has not let go of it. Loki suddenly feels ill. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Thor continues in a tone that sounds more hurt than angry. “And now you would deny me the comfort of having my brother back no matter how small amount of time. Even here, where you should fit the shape I make for you.”

Loki keeps quiet after the torrent of Thor’s words slowly dies down, its echo an accusing presence in the silence between them. “This is not real,” he says finally, forcing the words past the bile gathered in his throat. “And neither is the idyllic picture you are trying to paint. Have you forgotten where I had been when you asked for my help? Why I have been there in the first place?” Pausing, Loki smiles, sharp and merciless. “And the promise you made me. Have you forgotten that? _Brother_.”

“Of course I have not forgotten all of that, Loki” Thor almost growls, frustrated, angry and hurt, and so many other things Loki can read on his face. “But you died to save me. Call me whatever you like, but hate could not have been the only emotion in your heart for me, no matter your words and your previous deeds. Not if you were willing to risk yourself for me.”

Loki’s lips twitch in a bitter smile. “And now you are trying to make sense of my death by recalling our past?”

Thor laughs bitterly. “What else is there for me to do? You are not here to tell me the truth.”

And now Loki cannot help himself. He laughs out loud, sharp, high, and with an edge of hysteria. “As if truth is something I would offer you willingly.”

Thor smiles sadly at that, the anger quieting down in his eyes. “I still wish you were here, Loki. With madness in your mind and poison on your lips, or a brother I once knew, cunning, brilliant and sharp-tongued… I care not. But _alive_.”

He actually means it, Loki realizes with a soul shattering clarity. The great big fool would rather have them at each other’s throats than having to mourn him. And that hurts more than a hit from Mjölnir would, because Loki now sees the depth of Thor’s love, knowing he had all but crushed it by his latest betrayal. Even if Thor knows nothing of it. Yet.

“If I were actually here, you would be honor bound to return me to my cell. And I would not go willingly. Would you make good on your promise, Thor? Would you kill me, if it came to that?” Loki smiles softly, each word a dagger aimed at Thor, but somehow, it is his heart that ends up bleeding. “Return to your life, Thor, there is nothing for you here.”

With one last look, Loki lets go of the spell, carrying the memory of Thor’s face frozen in an expression of wide-eyed terror.

******

“Would that be all?”

Sif keeps her head bowed respectfully. “If you have no further need of me, my King.”

A barest hint of a smile makes an appearance on Loki’s borrowed face. It had been such a thrill in the beginning. To see all the people he came to loathe over the years kneel in front of him. The thrill faded quickly. They were kneeling in front of Odin, not Loki, the fear and respect on their faces meant for the illusion, not the person underneath, and all the power Loki held over their lives, just another lie.

“That will be all,” Loki says, and he cannot help but add. “You have done well, my Lady Sif. My son chooses his companions wisely.”

Loki has to give Sif a credit, her face stays impassive at the mention of Thor, but a slight tensing of her shoulders betrays her. It must sting, Thor choosing Midgardian woman over her. Even more, Thor choosing Midgard over Asgard. “I thank you my King, but I was merely doing my duty to the throne and Asgard.”

“Your services to the throne will not go unremembered, my Lady,” Loki says, dismissing Sif.

When Sif leaves the throne room, Loki dismisses the rest of his advisors with a wave of his hand.

It has been three days – and, more importantly, nights – since he last saw Thor. The need is still there, a dull ache inside his chest, but Loki fights against it. He devotes his entire time to Asgard’s matters, slowly gathering the loose treads of his rule, but now he takes even less enjoyment in listening to endless prattle of Odin’s advisors, or smiling curtly to foreign dignitaries, all but tripping over themselves to appease the Allfather. The night are worse, knowing that all he has to do is say a few words, and this damnable thirst inside him will be quenched, and fighting to keep himself from uttering them. He is slowly unwinding, and he doesn’t even know how to stop it from happening. 

Suddenly feeling trapped, his lungs struggling to draw breath, Loki literally flees the throne room, and he doesn’t stop until he is safely hidden behind the closed door of his old room.

Sagging against the door, Loki shuts his eyes as his lungs finally fill with air. Madness. That is what this is. Weakness and foolish sentiment, all the things he thought himself above, but here he is, hiding inside his old room, battling against the desperate need to somehow have both Thor and Asgard, but feeling he is about to lose both.

He struggles against the need to visit Thor’s dreams, deciding that Asgard is what he intends to keep, perfectly aware that with every visit, Asgard slowly slips from his grasp. Asgard and possibly his life.

Loki concedes defeat after a week.

******

“Where were you?” Thor demands when Loki strolls leisurely to meet him, his hands rhythmically clenching and unclenching by his sides. As if Thor has difficulty deciding whether he wants to hug Loki, or squeeze the life out of him. 

“Dreams are fickle, Thor. You cannot expect them to bow to your will,” he says softly, his smirk sharp as a razor’s edge. “Not even _you_ have the power to control something that changes shape by thought alone.”

Thor laughs, harsh and bitter. “Are you describing the nature of dreams or yourself, Loki?”

“Is there a difference now?” Loki asks, arching an eyebrow. Thor stays silent, his expression darkening.

Loki feels odd. A nervous excitement is buzzing inside his very blood, demanding an outlet and making Loki feel trapped inside his own skin. He had tried very hard not to come here, aware that the words he spoke to Thor last time were true. There is nothing for either of them here. Only lies, betrayal and heartache. And yet, here they are, both drawn to this ethereal realm by ties not even death can sever.

Thor seems to be in a similar mood. For once, he looks more like the brash, arrogant brother Loki remembers from days of old. His entire demeanor depicts barely controlled need for violence, shoulders drawn into a tense line, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. But his eyes are where the real danger lurks – the perfect replica of a summer sky before a thunderstorm.

Thor looks magnificent. Dangerous and unpredictable. _Fierce_. Raw elemental power of the storm and lightning bound inside a mortal flesh. An involuntary shiver runs down Loki’s spine, and he has to take one deep calming breath in order not to run his fingers along the naked skin of Thor’s arms, just to see would it crackle with electricity. 

“I care little for your play with words, Loki,” Thor says, his voice hoarse, his fists still balled up into fists. “You did not come. I waited for you.”

Loki almost laughs at that. Thor is angry, angrier than he’s seen him in a long time, his anger fueled by what he perceives as betrayal. If he only knew the truth of how mistaken he is.

“I guess we are not going to reminisce about the good old days this time?” Loki grins, feeling a wild rush of pleasure as the familiar grey of Svartalfheim flickers briefly, morphing into something else for a brief second.

Loki had been wrong, Thor is not merely angry, he is _furious_.

“There is no talking to you,” Thor forces out, his eyes blazing. “Not even now.”

Loki merely grins at that, taking another step forward, coming to a halt directly in front of Thor. He already knows that Thor remembers these dreams, but with how much detail Loki cannot even venture a guess. Just as he cannot know how long could this last before Thor starts to suspect the origin of the dream vision of his supposedly dead brother. Taking a long glance of Thor’s tumultuous expression, Loki starts to believe that, somewhere deep inside, Thor already suspects. He may not be ready to admit it to himself, but it should not be long now. Thor has never possessed penchant for self-delusion.

“So, _finally_ ,” Loki very nearly breathes the words, his throat tight with almost wild rush of nervous anticipation welling up from inside him. “You are going to give up on your sentimental foolishness, and remember who I truly am.”

“Of course I remember who you truly are, Loki,” Thor snaps, angry and annoyed, but he is still far too controlled for Loki’s taste. Loki wants to tear control from him completely.

“Then why are we still here. Why not on your precious Midgard?” Loki smiles, his words coated in the sweetest of poisons. When Thor’s eyes narrow, and the sky grows dark suddenly, Loki almost howls in triumph. “I have a few precious memories of that wretched realm. My favourite is the look on your face while inside a certain glass cage. You do remember that cage, do you not?”

Thor’s face darkens even more, and Loki half expects lighting to pierce the sky at any moment, the sound of his own wild heartbeat remarkably similar to that of thunder.

The lightning does not come, and Thor – the damnable bastard – stands stubbornly still, refusing to give in to his anger. Refusing to give Loki what he wants. And Loki needs Thor’s anger and unrestrained violence. Needs real emotion to pour all his helpless frustration, all his anger and need into. Not another useless venture into their past.

“I will not fight you, brother,” Thor says somberly, and, for a moment, Loki feels like he has indeed been transported back into the past, back at the Observatory, almost trembling with rage and staring at Thor’s dismayed, hurt and grimly determined face.

And Loki’s last thread of control simply snaps.

“I am not your brother!” He roars, and punches Thor hard in the face, pouring all his frustration in it. Thor’s head whips to the side and he staggers back, but Loki follows it with a lunge, so they end up rolling around the ground, Loki clawing at Thor, and trying to land punches at any part of Thor’s body he can reach. Thor doesn’t try to fight back, he uses his greater bulk in an attempt of restraining Loki. The fight ends when Thor finally manages to pin Loki’s wrists on the ground above his head, effectively immobilizing Loki’s lower body with his own.

They stay like that, both panting harshly, Thor’s face just inches above his own, curtailed by strands of blond hair. Loki’s heart is thrumming wildly, the heat coming off Thor’s body almost making him dizzy. This is not real, Loki knows it, but right now, with the feel of Thor’s body above his, it doesn’t seem to be much of a difference between reality and this dream state.

“Why must you always make us come to blows?” Thor’s voice is merely a broken, pained whisper. “Not once have I wanted to inflict pain on you, brother. By my actions or words.”

Loki shudders underneath Thor, his chest suddenly feeling tight, like there is an iron vise squeezing it mercilessly, making it impossible to breathe. He feels helpless, trapped by Thor in so many ways, and he wants to run, to move, completely forgetting that none of this is real, Thor’s body pinning him to the ground and the look in Thor’s eyes becoming the only reality Loki is aware of.

“Stop calling me brother!” Loki demands, but his voice comes out hoarse and weak, and Loki wants to make Thor finally see the truth of who they are. So he does the first thing that comes to his mind. He rises his head those few inches that separate him from Thor’s face and captures Thor’s lips with his own.

It’s not a real kiss. Just a harsh press of lips against lips, a statement, not an attempt at seduction. Loki keeps his eyes open, his lips still pressed tightly against Thor’s, taking in the wide-eyed disbelief on Thor’s face. But Thor doesn’t make a move to pull back, or push Loki away. Something dark blooms inside him, and he cannot help himself, his tongue darts out, licking Thor’s lower lip, seeking entrance. Thor’s eyelashes flutter, a shudder running through his entire body, a second before he pulls back.

Loki allows his heed to fall back against the ground with a dull thud, shutting his eyes. Laugh that comes out of his mouth nothing but a hollow, miserable sound as he waits for Thor’s reaction – either a punch, or words of disgust. Or at least for Thor to let go of him. But nothing happens. Thor remains silent and unmoving, his grip on Loki’s’ wrist not lessening.

Slowly, Loki opens his eyes, swallowing hard. Thor’s gaze is fixed firmly on his face, searching, the heat of it a lick of flame against Loki’s skin. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, Loki forces his lips into a grin. “Go ahead, Thor,” he whispers, and even though he tries to make the words sound taunting, his voice comes out too breathless. “Call me brother now.”

Thor merely looks at him, still with that damnable blank expression. It infuriates Loki. Most of the time he can read Thor like an open book, but not this time. Narrowing his eyes, Loki decides he’s had it enough, but then a smile – wide, earnest and almost dazzling in its intensity – curves Thor’s lips and Loki forgets everything.

“ _Brother_.” Thor says softly, releasing his hold on Loki’s left wrist. Loki’s eyes widen when he feels feather light touch of fingers against the side of his face, tracing the line of his jaw, stopping when they reach his lips. One long moment neither of them moves, and Loki can finally read the look in Thor’s eyes. There is longing, and sorrow, but most of all there is love. Thor’s head dips lower, slowly, but there is no hesitation to his movements, more like he is giving Loki a chance to say, or do something. Even if he wanted to, Loki could not move, so he stays still as Thor’s lips take place of his fingers against Loki’s lips. Thor lips and tongue are gentle, but insistent, coaxing Loki’s lips to part with teasing licks. Loki groans against Thor’s lips and opens his mouth, and Thor doesn’t waste a second to deepen the kiss, his fingers sliding down to the back of Loki’s neck. The kiss grows heated and passionate, both Loki and Thor fighting for control, parting only when the matter of breathing becomes a serious issue. Thor has his forehead pressed against Loki’s, his breath a warm caress on the side of Loki’s face. “Brother.” He repeats the word, and Loki almost laughs when it comes out as a breathless moan.

“You have serious issues, Thor, who would have thought that the ho-” Loki says, awed and lost at the same time, his word dissolving into a moan when Thor moves his head, his lips closing over the shell of Loki’s ear.

“You talk far too much, Loki,” Thor’s growl reverberates through Loki’s skin, and Loki has to clench his teeth to stop another moan from slipping past his lips. Thor’s lips trail the path from Loki’s ear to his neck. “Why is it so difficult for you to simply cease speaking?” Each word a warm caress against Loki’s skin, punctuated by a soft kiss.

“So this is how you mean to silence me?” Loki asks, trying not to grind his body against Thor’s. “By fucking me?”

Thor pauses, growing still, then lifts his head so he can look Loki in the eyes, releasing his hold on Loki’s wrist. “I would have you, yes,” Thor says, solemnly, and Loki tries to find a trace of shame, guilt or disgust in Thor’s eyes, but sees only yearning and desire. It makes his body grow cold. Loki is painfully aware that Thor doesn’t know how true this is, his mind muddled by his sorrow and Loki’s tricks and lies, but the want in his eyes – in his touches – is real, and _that_ , more than anything else, could wreck them both. “But even here I cannot make you be anyone but who you truly are. My vicious, maddening, brilliant younger brother who only does what _he_ desires.”

“How long have _you_ desired _me_?”

Thor looks startled for a second, but it quickly softens into a thoughtful expression. “Perhaps always,” he says, voice barely a whisper, his eyes taking in Loki’s face as if he sees him for the first time. “But never outside my dreams.”

The confession breaks something inside Loki, all his carefully constructed lies and illusions falling like a house of cards under the weight of those words. And all that remains is the simple truth of wanting the same from Thor, perhaps just as long.

Smiling sadly, he reaches out, placing his hand in the middle of Thor’s chest, feeling the steady beat of the heart underneath the armor. “Then it is a good thing we are inside your dream, Thor,” he says softly, his voice strangely composed as a single tear falls from the corner of his eye, making Thor’s face draw into an uncertain frown.

“Loki, I,” Thor starts, uncertain, but Loki silences him with a finger against his lips.

“You said I talk too much,” Loki says, his lips drawing into a smirk. He traces the outline of Thor’s lips, feeling an almost wild thrill at Thor’s sharp intake of breath. He drags his fingers lower, pausing at Thor’s Adam’s apple, feeling it rise and fall as Thor swallows, and lower, across Thor’s broad chest, until he stops just above the outline of Thor’s erection. Thor’s eyes are fixed on Loki’s face, and Loki almost moans at the molten heat in them, his pupils almost swallowing the blue of his irises. “I have no desire to talk now.”

“What do you desire then?”

Loki almost shivers at the throaty rumble of Thor’s voice. He thinks grinding his own aching hardness against Thor, or sliding his hand down those remaining inches, but instead he whispers. “You.”

And that is enough for Thor. With a sound that is half growl and half moan, Thor lowers his head against the crook of Loki’s neck, his hands suddenly all over Loki, frantically pulling at his armor to get it out of the way, his lips mouthing hotly against the skin of Loki’s neck.

Loki chuckles when Thor growls in frustration, tearing the leather of his pants as if it is paper thin, but it turns into a moan when Thor’s fingers close over his cock, and he can feel the smugness of Thor’s smile against his neck. But the smile turns into a groan when Loki palms Thor’s still clothed erection in return.

Thor abandons his exploration of Loki’s neck, lifting his head. “ _Loki_ ,” he whispers, and the amount of tenderness in those two syllables is startling. As is the love in the blue of his eyes. The weight of that look makes it almost impossible for Loki to breathe, his heart trying the impossible – to expand and shatter at the same time.

“ _I hate you_ ,” Loki forces through gritted teeth, grabbing Thor by his hair and pulling him down into a bruising kiss. Thor goes with it, but keeps the kiss gentle and loving, where Loki’s lips are harsh and demanding, until Loki gives up and shuts his eyes, feeling like he is falling again, a wide, yawning chasm awaiting him below.

But in this moment, with Thor’s body atop him, that is the price Loki is willing to pay.

******

Loki doesn’t have many regrets. And only one he is prepared to admit freely – Frigga’s death. And the last words he spoke to her.

Loki had not attended Frigga’s funeral, had not been allowed to. Back then, he’d been too caught up in his grief and misery to resent Odin and Thor for denying him the opportunity to say his goodbyes. After seizing the throne, he avoided coming to this place. Today, he’s finally run out of excuses. And time.

He is leaving Asgard. This decision has been simmering in the back of his mind almost since the beginning of his rule as Odin. When he’d seized the throne, it had been his victory. Over Odin, over Thor. Over _Asgard_. But the thrill of that victory had been short-lived. Loki did not exist. Not anymore. For citizens of Asgard he was nothing more than a black stain in Odin’s family line and Asgard’s recent history. The only place where Loki still lived were Thor’s dreams. And that is not what Loki wants. Loki wants Asgard to see him when he takes the throne, when he laughs at their shocked, frightened faces. If Asgard is to burn or prosper under his rule, he wants it to be in his name, and his alone.

And he wants Thor. He wants him by his side, or on his knees before him, but he wants him to know that Loki is still out in the world somewhere while he tries to live a life that will never be enough for who Thor truly is. Thor has always been a looming, constant presence in Loki’s life, but after their night together, it feels like having a poisonous blade wedged inside his heart. It is slowly killing him, but pulling it out would make him bleed to death.

Loki tries not to think of that night. He feels no guilt, and he regrets nothing, but one night is not enough. He wants more. Now, with the memory of Thor’s touches and kisses burned inside his mind, he aches for more. And he wants it to be real. Wants to see the look of ecstasy on Thor’s face as he comes inside him and taste the salt of his skin afterwards. Loki is aware of the irony of yearning after reality, resenting the illusion, conjured up by his spell and Thor’s foolish heart, when so much of his life is made purely out of lies.

But not this. Not anymore. He let his last word to his mother be those of a spiteful child, and now he will never be able to take them back.

“I am sorry, Mother,” Loki whispers, the Odin’s visage remaining stoic, while underneath Loki’s cheeks are wet with tears. Amidst lies and deception, Loki can now see her love for him as the sole pure, unspoiled thing in his entire existence. He takes one last look of the calm surface of the sea that marks the very edge of Asgard, wondering fleetingly will this be the last time he sets his eyes on this image. “Golden halls of Valhalla are privileged to have you there.”

With a flick of Loki’s wrist, a green orb of light flickers to existence, and floats away to the edge of the sea where it dissolves into a shower of sparks.

Loki is long gone before the last spark of his final farewell to his mother disappears.

******

It feels wrong to see Thor dressed in casual Midgardian wear. Loki is so used to seeing him in his armor, even in his dreams Thor had been wearing it, that a simple T-shirt and a pair of jeans somehow manage to make Thor look smaller, almost like a mere man, not someone who has the power to make thunder and lightning answer his call.

Thor moves through the apartment with an ease that sets Loki’s nerves on edge, even though he’d already seen him with his scientist, seen their domestic bliss, but Loki cannot help himself. He skulks in the shadows, trying to find a shadow in Thor’s eyes, a memory of what happened between them, but finds nothing. Only an expression of content that makes Loki’s blood boil with anger and bitter jealousy, making him clench his teeth almost hard enough to break.

A cheerful melody snaps Loki out of his thoughts, his eyes narrowing when Thor picks up one of those infernal cell phones Midgardians rely on so much, a wide smile stretching his lips as he answers the call.

“Jane, have you already arrived-”

Loki watches with grim satisfaction as words die on Thor’s lips, the device turning into useless pile of bits of plastic in Thor’s hand as Loki strolls leisurely out of the shadows.

“Hello, Thor,” Loki says, his voice deceptively soft, his eyes fixed firmly on the expression of utter shock on Thor’s face. “You look well.”

Thor blinks as shock turns into an expression of sheer joy, taking a step forward, his arms half raised, but stops dead, like he is afraid Loki is a ghost that will slip through his fingers if he tries to hold him “ _Loki_ ,” Thor breathes out, and Loki winces as he recalls the last time Thor said his name in almost the exact tone. “This cannot be… you are gone. You died in my arms.”

“I came back from death. _Brother_.” Loki says, his lips twisting into a sharp grin as Thor blinks again, his hands slowly falling back to his sides as the realization slowly starts to dawn in his eyes. Shock turns to horror, horror into anger, but there is still something that look far too much like relief underneath it all. And that almost sways Loki. Almost. “But if you want me, you will have to catch me first.” Loki’s grin grows wider as Thor’s eyes start to widen, his entire body tensing. Loki’s voice turns sultry as he adds. “Sweet dreams, Thor.”

With that, Loki teleports out, as Thor finally snaps into action, but it is already too late, his fingers closing over nothing but air as he lunges after Loki.

When he materializes on the other side of the world from Thor, Loki throws his head back and laughs.

Loki knows not how this will all end, but he knows one thing, Thor will not let him go, not now, and if having Thor chase him across the Nine Realms is the only way to finally make them equal, that is a future Loki can accept. For now. Because as much fun as running is, he has no intention of running away from Thor forever.

One way or another, he will have Thor again.


End file.
